thesocialpoet

Minimum Wage

In Poetry on May 28, 2015 at 9:08 am

40 hours a week

Sweat filled

Motions

Mopping

Time

Into

Hourly

Wage

While

He

Sits in his

Office

Planning his next

Vacation

His daughter’s

Luxury car present

At graduation

 

40 hours a week

Spent paying

His mortgage

His car payment

 

Yet, he doesn’t even

Know our names

First

Or

Last

That

Is

No nicknames

Just a blank

Stare

Of recollection

 

Like Nana before

She passed away

 

His Alzheimers

Is induced by

Arrogance

 

He sees us as replaceable

Deeming his

Weekly wages compensation

For lack of humanization

Lack of friendship

That brotherhood

Bond

Bonded

By

Life

In

The

Trenches

 

Day in

Day out

We sweat for him

Stave off sleep for him

Yet,

He doesn’t even know our names

Doesn’t know why we can’t find a better job.

 

He calls me guy

Her hun

Him pal

Her bud

 

Thinks our

$7.50 an hour is not slave labor

In his estimation

The Cubans should be happy with their

Treatment

Because they chose to come here

And fulfill his dream

In his estimation

My ancestral middle passage

Passed between

My parents

In the middle of the night

Nothing more

 

With

Our eyes

We scream

Give us our respect

Before our paychecks

Treat us like people

Location of birth

Did not make us any less

The flesh of the flesh

The blood of the blood

Of economic dreams

 

We know HIS name

He made sure of that

As he wields his green light saber

Killing earthly vapors

 

He likes me because I speak English

They like me because I teach them English

My best student is the Ecuadorian mother of eight

 

240 dollars a week won’t allow her to emancipate while he

Elongates his bank

I know the names of her children

Pedro, Tito

Raquel, Ramon

Juanita, Rosa

Carmen and Esperanza

I know their names and I have not met them

I know them because I care

 

All the while

He doesn’t know our names

He doesn’t even know

We

Are there

 

Aaron Middlepoet Jackson, USA

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